I’m Ella, 29, and I genuinely need outside perspective because my brain is still trying to process what happened.
I’ve been dating my boyfriend, Mike, for a little over two years. Things felt solid — warm, steady, heading toward that unspoken engagement territory where you casually browse rings online and imagine joint holiday dinners. So when he told me I was finally meeting his parents, I was excited. Nervous, yes — but excited.
Last night was the big night.
We walked into a mid-range but nice restaurant — the kind where you iron your shirt but don’t need to study the menu beforehand. His parents were already seated. Mike introduced me, and I barely finished saying, “Nice to meet you,” before he looked at me, completely serious, and said:
“Hope you brought your wallet. We’re starving.”
I laughed automatically — because what else do you do? It had to be a joke.
It wasn’t.
His dad stood up slightly, cleared his throat like a courtroom judge, and declared, “If she’s already struggling now, imagine the future.”
I blinked.
His mom sighed and gave me a pitying smile. The kind you’d give a child trying to pay rent with Monopoly money.
“Honey,” she said, “you deserve a partner who contributes.”
I thought that was the worst of it.
I was wrong.
Because then Mike — my actual boyfriend — leaned toward me and said, “You’ll have to pay for dinner. It’s a test. I’ll explain later.”
A test.
Apparently, this wasn’t just dinner. This was a family tradition. The girlfriend pays for the entire table to prove she isn’t planning to “use their son someday.”
They explained it proudly, like they’d pioneered modern relationship standards. Words like “independent,” “self-sufficient,” and “equality” were tossed around — all while their grown son didn’t so much as pretend to reach for his wallet.
The irony was thick enough to slice.
I sat there thinking: I have zero interest in marrying into a family whose bonding activity is financial hazing.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t give them the dramatic reaction they probably expected.
I excused myself politely.
I walked to the register.
And I paid for my meal only.
Then I left.
Plot twist, apparently.
Now Mike is blowing up my phone, calling me dramatic and “too emotional.” He says I embarrassed him and that I “failed the test.” His parents apparently think I’m not capable of meeting their expectations.
And I’m sitting here wondering: in what universe is this normal?
Is there a version of reality where this isn’t one giant red flag factory?
Do I bother having one final conversation with him? Or do I accept that a man who lets his parents financially audition his girlfriend at 29 years old is not husband material?
Because right now?
I’m leaning very hard toward running.
